


a little too late

by gayornay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I swear to God, Mutual Pining, but don't worry, if only they would just say what they feel, these two idiots, they get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayornay/pseuds/gayornay
Summary: “So you’re telling me the woman you’re low key in love with tells you she’s meeting her ex for a possibly-getting-back-together dinner, and you’re fine?”Clarke has the option to choose between two lies: she’s not in love with Lexa or she’s fine.She goes with the easiest one of them.“Yes, Raven. I’m fine.”
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 103
Kudos: 844





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So, I don't know how I managed to go from working on my latest story to writing 20k words based off of one scene I wrote over a year ago, but here we are! I guess my brain needed a break from all the fluff? Pfft. What a sucker for punishment.
> 
> Buckle up, because angst is the main driver here, but it'll all work out in the end, I promise. I refuse to write Clarke and Lexa in any scenario where they don't end up together.
> 
> Enjoy!

_She’s back._

The words ring in her ears, drowning out every other sound in the busy restaurant they’re in right now. Her stomach tightens, drops even before her brain can fully process what’s going on. It couldn’t possibly–

“Who?” she asks, even though she doesn’t need to. She knows. Somehow she just _knows_.

“Costia,” comes Lexa’s reply and there it is, the confirmation she didn’t need.

“Your ex?” Octavia chimes in from across the table, making her jump a little. She had forgotten she was there.

Lexa nods curtly.

“ _Shit,_ ” she hears from her side. It’s Raven who mutters it, a hand instinctively reaching for Clarke’s knee under the table. She gives it a light squeeze.

Clarke tries to swallow past the lump in her throat. “She–“ she stops. Has to take a deep breath before continuing. “What do you mean she’s back?”

She doesn’t know how she manages to get a whole sentence out, especially without giving away the havoc going on inside her right now.

It feels like her whole world is crumbling down.

“I mean, she’s back in town. Called me last night, said she was sorry,” Lexa looks down at her hands as she talks. She’s embarrassed, Clarke knows. She always plays with her hands when she’s embarrassed. “She didn’t like California, couldn’t get used to it. Couldn’t get used to being without me.”

It’s like a rope tightens around her ribcage. She can’t breathe, her chest feels tight and she can’t _breathe_.

“So she…” Raven treads carefully. “She wants to get back together?”

She’s asking all the questions Clarke wishes she could ask. All the questions she’s too afraid to find the answer to. 

Raven’s hand is still on her knee, anchoring her. Clarke’s grateful for the only thing making her feel like she’s not _actually_ falling into an abyss.

Lexa shrugs in response. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much. She just said she wanted to meet, have dinner.”

“Are you gonna?”

It’s Octavia who asks, but when Lexa responds she’s looking directly at Clarke.

“Tomorrow.”

One word had never weighed so much.

“That’s great,” Clarke says, displaying her best fake smile. Her voice overly cheery. “Excuse me, I have to–“ she doesn’t even finish her sentence. She just stands up, Raven’s hand falling limply next to her as Clarke pushes her chair back and makes a beeline for the restroom.

Her heart feels like it’s both beating incessantly and not beating at all.

The first thing she does once inside the bathroom is walk to the sink, turning the knob on the right of the faucet until cold water starts running. Both hands pressed together in the shape of a bowl, she collects just enough water to splash her face. She needs to calm down.

She leans forward, bringing her hands up as she does. After the cool water meets her face she looks up to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Small drops are sliding down her skin, her eyes beginning to water.

 _No_. She will _not_.

She blinks a couple of times, willing the tears to go away. She tells herself she has this under control as she angrily runs the back of her hand over her eyes.

The bathroom door swings open and then closed. She’s relieved to see it’s only Raven standing there.

“Lexa wanted to come check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Clarke says without prompting.

“Uh huh,” Raven leans her hip against the bathroom counter, arms crossed. She’s giving her that look, the ‘ _I don’t believe a word you’re saying_ ’ look. “You know, I’ve been okay letting you lie to me all these months. I thought, who cares? As long as she’s not hurting anyone, let her lie and pretend, but now…” Raven sighs, taking a step closer and placing a hand on Clarke’s arm. “Now you’re hurting, Clarke.”

“I’m fine,” Clarke repeats, harsher this time. Sadly Raven is not one to back down.

“Clarke…” she insists.

“Raven. I’m okay, really. It’s fine.”

“So you’re telling me the woman you’re low key in love with tells you she’s meeting her ex for a possibly-getting-back-together dinner, and you’re fine?”

Clarke has the option to choose between two lies: she’s not in love with Lexa or she’s fine.

She goes with the easiest one of them. 

“Yes, Raven. I’m fine.”

::::

“Everything okay?” Lexa asks once they return to their table.

“Just peachy,” Clarke says. Both Octavia and Lexa give her an incredulous look.

“Food was a little spicy,” Raven offers and Clarke’s grateful for the assistance.

Lexa’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “You’ve always had a weak stomach.”

“Excuse you,” Clarke says in a half-hearted attempt to defend herself. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t exposed to spices growing up.”

“Hey, I wasn’t either and I do just fine,” Octavia smiles proudly, always glad for the opportunity to point out how naturally great she is at everything.

Raven and Octavia fall into a discussion over tolerance to spices and the role genes play in said tolerance, but Clarke’s mind is too preoccupied to participate.

“Hey,” a nudge to her foot makes her look up. Lexa is looking at her with curious eyes. “Are you okay?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah.” A pause. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lexa looks at her, lips parted. She seems to be hesitating, like she wants to ask more. Say more. She shrugs instead.

“No reason, I guess.”

They fall into silence and it’s awkward. Lexa still looking at her like she’s trying to read her mind. Clarke usually doesn’t mind, enjoys it even, especially when Lexa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and focuses her attention on every inch of Clarke’s face. But Clarke’s too scared of what Lexa may find if she does figure her out, so this time she avoids her stare.

“Clarke, if–“

“I have to go,” Clarke interrupts. This stops Octavia and Raven’s discussion, both turning their attention back to her.

“What?” Octavia asks in surprise. “But we’ve had this planned for the past two weeks. And we’re supposed to go to–“

“My stomach’s really not feeling well,” Clarke says lamely, unable to come up with a better excuse. She places a hand over her abdomen for emphasis.

“Do you need a ride?” Lexa asks, standing up as Clarke does.

“No!” Lexa looks at her wide-eyed. “I mean– No. Thank you,” she says, softer this time. “You guys can still go to the movies. I’ll pay you back for my ticket.”

Lexa shakes her head. “Don’t be silly, Clarke. I don’t care about that, I–“

“Good luck tomorrow,” Clarke says. She stands up and turns around before any of them can say anything else, making sure to leave the restaurant without looking back.

::::

 **Lexa [9:12pm]:** _I hope you’re feeling better :)_

 **Lexa [9:13pm]:** _For what it’s worth, you didn’t miss much. The movie wasn’t that great_

 **Lexa [9:13pm]:** _This should be the last time we let Octavia pick the movie_

 **Lexa [9:18pm]:** _You’re probably asleep. I hope you wake up feeling better. Text me when you do?_

 **Lexa [10:33am]:** _Morning, Clarke :) How are you feeling?_

 **Lexa [10:35am]:** _Could you please text me back when you get this? I’m starting to get worried_

**Lexa (1 Missed Call, 11:36am)**

::::

An impending headache is the first thing Clarke feels when she slowly attempts to open her eyes the following day.

Her memory a little bit fuzzy, she blindly taps around in search for her phone. She thinks it may be buried somewhere between the cushions, or maybe it fell off the couch sometime last night after she passed out.

Head sticking to the side of the couch, she suddenly feels dizzy and needs to close her eyes tightly to subdue the need to throw up.

How much did she drink last night? Probably not more than a glass or two.

She finds her answer when she dares to open her eyes again. An empty bottle of bourbon lying sideways on the coffee table tells her she drank at least half of its contents, if not more. She doesn’t remember exactly how much was already gone when she fished the glass container out of the kitchen cabinet last night.

A groan fills her apartment as she tries to sit up. Her body aches, her head hurts and her heart isn’t faring any better. She childishly shoots daggers at the bottle in front of her, as if it’s the bourbon’s fault that she’s feeling the way she is right now, and not the fact that Lexa managed to ebb herself so deep within her that Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll function once she goes back to Costia.

That thought alone makes her stomach twirl and the urge to throw up is back, except this time it’s even stronger and she barely manages to make it to the bathroom in time to release its contents into the toilet.

She sits on the floor, head over the bowl until she’s sure there won’t be any more coming. She brushes strands of blonde hair away from her sweat-stricken forehead with the back of her hand and then pushes herself up, walking to the sink slowly. She doesn’t want to do anything to provoke another outburst.

It takes brushing her teeth twice to get rid of the taste and smell. She makes a mental note to grab a mint from the kitchen counter once she’s done in the bathroom for good measure.

Clarke reaches in front of her to open the cabinet on top of the sink, moving a couple of plastic bottles out of the way until she finds the one she’s looking for. She uncaps it and shakes it against her palm until two ibuprofen pills come out. She pops them in her mouth before closing and returning the container to the cabinet.

She walks to the kitchen, dragging her feet. She’s never been great at dealing with hangovers, but she’s still not sure how much of what she’s feeling is due to the alcohol and how much actually has to do with the fact that Lexa will be meeting Costia later today and her dumb brain won’t stop reminding her of it.

Grabbing an empty glass from the pile of clean dishes sitting by the kitchen sink, she takes it to her fridge and presses it against the dispenser until it’s filled to the brim with water. She brings it to her lips, sipping just enough so she can swallow the pills and then taking bigger gulps, hoping it will help subdue the headache.

Does she have anything in her medicine cabinet to help with heartaches, too?

She shakes her head at that lame thought, never one to wallow in self-pity. She’s fine. Correction– she _will_ be fine. All she needs to do is take this day to feel sorry for herself and then move on. She did it with her last boyfriend, after he decided two years together didn’t mean enough and still left her for the new girl he met at work.

Certainly she can do the same now. She’s only known Lexa for six months and they aren’t even together. Surely this is nothing more than a crush that got out of hand. Clarke can find a way to be happy for her friend and have enough energy to find other ways to be happy herself.

She finishes drinking the whole glass of water and then refills it before walking back to the couch. Moving a couple of throw pillows, she finds the remote control under one of them and she takes it, turning the TV on so it will give her something to distract her and stop her thoughts from wandering back to Lexa.

Lexa with the soft eyes, looking at Clarke with worry after she said she wasn’t feeling well. Lexa with a playful smile, teasing her for having low tolerance to spices. Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.

She sits down, defeated. Placing her glass on the table, she now looks around to find her phone. She doesn’t even know what time it is, the clock on her kitchen oven and microwave still blinking 12:00 back at her from the last time the lights went out.

She pats around, trying to remember where she may have left it last night. She knows she threw it at the couch as soon as she got home, and doesn’t remember seeing it again since then.

“Aha!” she exclaims to no one once her fingers find it lodged between the couch’s cushions. She wraps them around the device, pulling it and touching the screen to activate it.

Six unread messages and one missed call stare back at her. She reads the messages, careful to use the preview instead of opening them in the app. She’s pretty sure she has the ‘read’ option turned off, but she doesn’t want to chance it.

A sense of guilt overtakes her with each message she reads. She can imagine Lexa tapping her fingers on her knee, the way she does when she’s anxious. Sometimes her knee starts bouncing up and down, too, if she’s nervous.

Clarke sucks in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the face that’s peeking at her from the bottom of the screen, below her notifications. It was only a few weeks ago when they took that picture after their weekly Friday brunch. They had decided to switch things up and order smoothies to go and walk to a park instead of ordering in and sitting at their usual corner table.

The sun had been shining bright in the sky, not a cloud in sight. A light breeze helped keep them cool as they sat under a big tree. Clarke had sat down with her back against the trunk, an inaudible gasp escaping her lips when Lexa decided to sit down between Clarke’s legs, her back pressed against her.

Lexa had scooted down further to rest her head against Clarke’s chest and the only thing Clarke could think about was whether or not Lexa could feel her heart pounding against her chest. After recovering from their unexpected sitting position, Clarke had pulled out her phone and had asked Lexa to snap a picture of them, setting it as her lock screen background shortly after.

Since then she has spent countless times tapping her phone’s screen just to see that picture show up.

Right now she wishes she had picked something different instead.

She’s pulled from her thoughts when the object in question vibrates in her hands, her heart beating wildly at the thought of Lexa messaging her again. She’s relieved to see it’s Raven this time, although her message doesn’t do much to help her conflicted mind.

 **Raven [12:48pm]:** _You alive? Lexa’s worried sick about you, she won’t stop blowing up my phone_

 **Raven [12:48pm]:** _I already told her you’re probably just trying to sleep it off, but she knows you too well, Griff_

 **Raven [12:48pm]:** _What do you want me to say?_

Clarke sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s grateful for her friend. Raven has always had her back and she knows she can count on her to help her out of this situation, too. But Lexa has done nothing to deserve the silent treatment, so this is something Clarke needs to deal with herself.

 **Clarke [12:50pm]:** _As alive as I can be after drinking at least half a bottle of bourbon_

The thought alone almost makes her want to throw up again. She presses her hand to her lips, willing her stomach to calm down before she starts typing again.

 **Clarke [12:51pm]:** _But don’t worry about it, I’ll reply to her now_

 **Clarke [12:51pm]:** _Thanks, Rae_

The last message ends with a kiss emoji, knowing that’ll be enough for her friend to know Clarke appreciates her.

Clarke then takes a deep breath, as if messaging Lexa needs preparation. She hates feeling this way. Lexa had managed to become one of her best friends in such a short period of time, something as simple as reaching out via text had never been a difficult task. But now she doesn’t know where they stand– Well. She knows where she stands for Lexa. As friends. That’s all she ever was, all she’ll ever be.

Another deep breath and then she finally gathers enough courage to write and send a message.

 **Clarke [12:54pm]:** _Sorry, still under the weather, but getting better_

She hates the thought of lying to Lexa, but what is she supposed to do? Say ‘Sorry, still trying to recover from the news that you’ll be getting back together with your ex, but hey! Don’t you worry about me.’?

No… that probably wouldn’t work.

 **Clarke [12:55pm]:** _Thanks for asking, though :)_

She adds a minute later, including a smiley face even though she doesn’t feel like smiling at all. It’s mostly as a peace offering, silently asking for forgiveness for ignoring Lexa’s messages since last night. She stares at her phone, waiting for a reply. She knows Lexa has been by her phone all morning; there’s no way she didn’t already see her message.

Three excruciating minutes go by before Lexa replies.

 **Lexa [12:58pm]:** _Glad you’re feeling better_

No smiley face. No additional messages. Nothing.

Clarke sighs, tightly closing her eyes. It feels as if she’s already losing Lexa even before Costia has had a chance to swoop back in, and all because she can’t set her emotions aside. It’s not Lexa’s fault Clarke has feelings for her (however big or small those feelings may be).

Granted, if Lexa wasn’t so fucking smart and witty and if she didn’t sometimes look at Clarke like she holds the world and if she didn’t smell so nice and if she didn’t–

Clarke shakes her head. That’s not helping.

She looks at her phone for a few minutes, contemplating whether to send her another message or not. She settles for the latter of the two, closing her messaging app and turning off the screen before she can get lost in Lexa’s shining green eyes again.

::::

The sun has gone down and apparently with it also Clarke’s need to throw up. She’s still not feeling one hundred percent, but definitely better than a few hours ago. Her head is still pounding, but only by her temples instead of her whole head.

She has been sitting on the couch all afternoon, letting the TV stream episode after episode of her favorite show. It doesn’t do much to keep her mind busy, but it’s a good enough distraction. She even dozed off again a little after 5 and has only been awake again for the past hour.

She hopes that doesn’t mean she’ll have trouble sleeping tonight. She’s looking forward to waking up on a new day, where her feelings for Lexa will be a thing of the past.

(She doesn’t actually believe that to be true, but a girl can dream.)

Her stomach grumbles then, reminding Clarke that she hasn’t really eaten anything for the past twenty-four hours, not since she left the Indian restaurant in a hurry. Apparently, according to her stomach, over twelve ounces of bourbon is not nutritious enough. Pfft.

She goes to the bathroom before heading into the kitchen, making sure to grab more ibuprofen to help completely get rid of her headache. She’s going through her fridge, trying to figure out what she can put together to have a half-decent meal when her doorbell rings.

It startles her, making her jump in place. She turns around, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out who could be on the other side of the door. By process of elimination she assumes it’s Raven, since Lexa is out with Costia –Clarke tries her hardest to not think about their date and whether or not it’s going well– and Octavia is working late.

With that in mind, she approaches her front door and opens it, faltering when her eyes find Lexa standing there instead of Raven.

“Lexa?” she can’t stop her surprise from coating the other woman’s name.

“Hey,” Lexa says, walking in without waiting for an invitation. It’s nothing unusual, she has never needed an invitation and stopped waiting for one long ago, but it does leave Clarke standing by the entryway for a few seconds before her brain finally catches up enough to close the door.

“What–” she stops herself, making sure to soften her tone so her surprise doesn’t make the words that are coming out of her mouth next sound rude. “What are you doing here?” she asks, scanning Lexa.

She’s standing in Clarke’s living room, holding a paper bag in her hands. She’s wearing tight black pants and a low cut black top. Thin straps barely holding it up, Clarke can’t help but notice she isn’t wearing a bra. In one word, she looks _hot_.

Clarke doesn’t understand how her mouth can water while her throat completely dries up. But it does, so she has to clear it before she can speak again. “You look…” she lets her eyes travel over Lexa’s body unabashedly. “Fuck, Lex. You look amazing,” Clarke says, the slip of Lexa’s nickname inevitable at this point.

Lexa blushes, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Thanks,” Lexa says, pushing a lone strand of hair behind her ear. Clarke will never stop wondering how the woman standing in front of her doesn’t realize how absolutely breathtaking she is.

Clarke finally finds the strength in her legs to move further into her apartment to stand a few feet away from Lexa. Standing this close she can smell Lexa’s perfume, the one Clarke knows she only wears for special occasions. That, combined with Lexa’s overall look reminds Clarke where she was tonight.

She tries to swallow past the lump that forms in her throat. “What are you doing here?” she has to ask again, because Lexa still hasn’t explained.

“Oh,” Lexa says, as if suddenly remembering herself. “I figured you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.” Clarke looks to her side to not give her answer away, but that is an answer in and of itself and Lexa knows that. When Clarke looks at her again, she’s wearing a soft smile. “So I brought you something to eat,” she says, holding up the paper bag.

“You know I usually would recommend chicken noodle soup until you feel better, but I know you’re more of the mindset of eating through it,” Lexa finishes with a smirk, and Clarke hates how well Lexa knows her.

“You didn’t have to,” is all Clarke can say. You didn’t have to stop your date with your ex to come take care of me, is what she doesn’t say.

“I know, but I wanted–” Lexa has moved to place the paper bag on the coffee table, and she stops talking when her eyes land on the object that’s been lying on it since last night. A certain bottle Clarke forgot to throw away, mostly because she hasn’t been away from the couch long enough.

Heart beating faster, Clarke braces herself for the question she knows is about to come. Lexa turns to her, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?” she asks, and her whole demeanor has softened.

“I’m fine,” Clarke says, trying to scramble for a good excuse. If she doesn’t provide one, she knows Lexa won’t stop pressing for answers.

(Shortly after they met, Lexa learned Clarke doesn’t really drink hard alcohol. Months later she found out the only time Clarke does drink hard alcohol is when she’s hurting – _really_ hurting– like she was two and a half months ago when it was the tenth year anniversary of her dad’s passing.)

Lexa places the paper bag down and reaches for the bottle instead, picking it up. She examines it, as if not believing it’s there, in her hand, completely empty.

“Oh, that?” Clarke says through a nervous laugh. “I’m so messy,” she says, walking over to grab the bottle from Lexa’s hand and then walking to the kitchen, throwing it in the recyclables trash can. “That’s from days ago. Raven came over and we got bored. I ran out of beer and that was the only thing I had left, so we just shared a couple of glasses.”

It’s a lie, obviously. But she hopes it’s believable enough that Lexa will drop it. Lexa moves her eyes back to the table, and Clarke spots what she’s looking at before Lexa can say anything. “A glass,” she corrects, walking over to grab the lonely glass this time, taking it to the kitchen and leaving it in the sink, away from Lexa’s prying eyes. “We shared a glass.”

Unsure eyes are still fixed on her and Lexa looks like she’s trying to piece things together. It’s making Clarke uneasy, so she looks around to change the subject. That’s when she spots the paper bag again, the restaurant’s logo displayed on it.

“You got me food from The Grill?” she asks, her mouth watering and her chest expanding. That’s her favorite restaurant, one she had taken Lexa to the first time they went out together without Raven and Octavia. She talked about it non-stop before they got there, promising Lexa the food was out of this world.

She still remembers the way Lexa looked at her all night, listening to her rave about this appetizer and that entree and their wonderful dessert that they shared at the end of the night over candlelight.

If Clarke hadn’t chickened out she probably would have taken Lexa there on a date, instead of just a night out as friends. But she was too scared to ask her then, much like she is now.

“Yeah,” Lexa says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Costia and I went there for dinner tonight and I figured–”

The words stop registering at the mention of Costia and their date. Clarke stands there, staring at Lexa, watching her lips move, but no words are reaching her ears. All she can hear is her heart beating while simultaneously shattering at the thought of Lexa and Costia sitting at her favorite restaurant, sharing shy smiles and soft laughs over amazing food.

That could’ve been her. It could have been Clarke and Lexa if Clarke hadn’t been so scared of asking Lexa out. Although, if she thinks about it, there’s no way Lexa would’ve said yes. She’s clearly still hung up on Costia.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice brings her back and Clarke’s cheeks heat up when she realizes Lexa probably asked her a question that she doesn’t have the answer to because she was too distracted imagining her world falling apart around her.

“Sorry,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “What did you say?”

Lexa takes a few steps toward her, now standing close. Too close for Clarke to be able to breathe properly. Her perfume engulfs her again, Lexa’s kind eyes searching her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she reaches for her hand then and Clarke’s sure Lexa can feel her thudding pulse against her fingertips.

Clarke looks at her, getting lost in green eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, to repeat that she’s fine, but the truth is she’s not. She’s not fine because this amazing woman is standing in front of her, looking at her like nothing else matters and Clarke can’t stand to think of a world where Lexa isn’t the one looking at her like that.

So she takes a deep breath, gathers all the courage she has –and even the one she lacks– and turns her hand around, palm up until she can intertwine their fingers.

Costia may have gone out with Lexa tonight, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t time for Clarke to tell Lexa how she really feels.

“Lexa, can we talk?” Clarke asks, pulling her softly to guide her to the couch. She thinks her heart is going to beat out of her chest, but she doesn’t care. She’s getting through this, no matter what.

She’s surprised when her pull is met with resistance, and she turns to look at Lexa with questioning eyes. She’s rooted to the spot.

“Actually,” Lexa says, looking down at their joined hands. “Costia is downstairs, so I should really get going.”

Clarke’s hand goes limp immediately, dropping Lexa’s hand. “Oh,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize–”

“Yeah. After dinner she offered to drop me off, but I told her I needed to get this to you,” Lexa says, pointing at the food she brought for Clarke.

The Grill is starting to become her least favorite restaurant.

“Since you’re on the way to my house it kinda worked out,” she says. Clarke can feel Lexa’s eyes searching hers, but Clarke refuses to look at her. Can’t stand the thought of looking at Lexa knowing she will walk out the door to go home with Costia.

“I see,” Clarke says, cursing internally for drinking all the bourbon she had left last night. She definitely needs it now more than ever. “Don’t keep her waiting, then,” she adds, forcing a smile on her face. She doesn’t even know if she’s successful.

Lexa nods. “But, whatever you wanted to talk about,” she says, placing her thumbs through the loops on her pants. “Tell me tomorrow, yeah? During our weekly brunch?”

Fuck. Clarke had completely forgotten about that. Tomorrow’s Friday, which means Lexa and her get together to grab something to eat.

Alone.

She doesn’t know why, but Clarke nods, even though being alone with Lexa after she’ll spend the night with Costia is the last thing she wants to do. “Sure,” she says, shrugging. She doesn’t know how she manages to stop her voice from cracking. “It wasn’t anything important anyway,” she lies.

Lexa’s phone goes off then, cutting through the quiet atmosphere. Clarke is grateful for the interruption, even though she knows exactly who’s messaging her.

“I should go,” Lexa says, looking between her phone and Clarke. She looks torn, although Clarke doesn’t know why. The decision was made long ago.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Clarke barely manages to say when they reach the front door.

“Thanks. Enjoy your dinner,” Lexa gives her a small smile and Clarke doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop the sob she feels boiling its way up. “See you tomorrow?”

Clarke can’t do more than nod, afraid if she opens her mouth her feelings will come pouring out.

“I can’t wait,” Lexa says, giving her a final smile before turning around. Clarke closes the door behind her as soon as she can, turning to lean her back against it and sliding down until her butt touches the ground.

A sob does escape then, just as she brings her knees in, wrapping her arms around them and resting her forehead on her arms.

There’s no amount of medicine or bourbon that can cure the way she’s feeling right now.

::::

The sun is hiding somewhere behind a body of dense, dark clouds. Very fitting, Clarke thinks, as she sits by the window of the coffeeshop Lexa had picked out for them this week. They take turns between visiting their usual spot and picking a new place. It was Lexa’s turn to choose.

It only takes a quick scan around the store for Clarke to understand why Lexa had picked it. It’s small enough and there’s a nook with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books, sofas laid out around it. It would be the perfect spot for Lexa to sink in with a random book and a steaming cup of coffee.

It would be part of Lexa’s paradise if such a thing existed.

Clarke picks at the sleeve covering her cup for the hundredth time since she bought her coffee a few minutes ago. Lexa had messaged her a little over five minutes ago saying she was running late, but to go ahead and order the usual because she would arrive soon.

So Clarke sits by the window, keeping an eye out for Lexa, coffee in front of her along with two sandwiches and Lexa’s drink. And she’s dreading their encounter more and more with each passing second.

She knows Lexa will ask her how she’s doing and Clarke’s going to have to lie and say she’s okay.

She knows she’ll have to ask about Costia and their date because what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t?

She knows she’ll hate every second of it, but she’s forcing herself to push through, because as much as the thought of Lexa being with someone else kills her, the thought of losing Lexa altogether is even worse. And that’s the only reason why she’s here today, despite every part of her body begging her to stay in her apartment this morning.

Because Clarke is Lexa’s friend and that’s the only thing that matters.

The bell hanging above the door rings when someone walks in, and Clarke’s eyes find Lexa an instant later. She’s standing by the entry, slightly out of breath. She’s looking around, trying to find Clarke, until her eyes land on her and Lexa’s face lights up.

Clarke’s chest constricts at the sight, but she tells her brain to tell her heart to get a fucking grip. She can’t allow herself to feel this way anymore.

“Hey,” Lexa says once she reaches their table. She sits down, placing the bag she was carrying on the ground, by her feet. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was terrible.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke says, her hands returning to pick at the sleeve. Her mind is out of control, imagining Lexa being late because Costia was still in her apartment. Maybe wearing one of her old shirts and nothing else, begging Lexa to stay with her.

Maybe Lexa wanted to and just didn’t have the heart to cancel.

“I barely just got here anyway,” Clarke says, pushing Lexa’s coffee cup toward her. It’s still hot to the touch.

“Thanks,” Lexa smiles, taking the cup and grabbing her sandwich. “I’ll get you next time.”

The thought of ‘next time’s had always excited Clarke. The promise of meeting again, each Friday, no matter what, was what helped her get through the week most of the time.

She wonders how long it will last now that Lexa and Costia are back together.

Clarke begins picking at the sleeve yet again, this time more furiously. She’s about to rip it off completely when warm fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her.

“Hey,” Lexa says quietly, pushing her hand away slowly. “Everything okay?”

Clarke nods in response. “Yeah, sorry. Just– stressed.”

Lexa tilts her head to the side. Clarke can almost hear the cogs in her head turning, trying to filter through pieces of information to find what’s stressing her out. “Work?” she asks.

Truth is, there’s nothing stressful going on in her life.

Nothing outside of Lexa, anyway.

So Clarke lies. “Yeah,” she says. “Just a few deadlines I’m worried I won’t meet. But it’s fine.”

Lexa smiles at her, big and bright. “You got this,” she says, giving her wrist a light squeeze. Clarke hopes against hope that Lexa will remove her hand after that, but she doesn’t. She keeps it there and it feels like the spot Lexa is touching is both burning and freezing at the same time.

Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll get out of here alive.

Lexa turns Clarke’s wrist then, making her palm face up. “I’ve always loved this tattoo,” Lexa says, now running just her pointer’s fingertip over Clarke’s exposed wrist. She traces the black ink, her touch almost imperceptible. Clarke struggles to stop her eyes from fluttering shut at the soft contact.

That tattoo appeared three years after Jake’s death, despite her mom’s objection. Clarke was missing her dad as usual, but the feeling was growing stronger, the need for some sort of connection bigger than ever. So she had spent all night drawing things that reminded her of him, until she landed on the symbol now etched on her skin.

She remembers the first time Lexa laid eyes on it, approximately three months ago. They were hanging out at Lexa’s place, just the two of them. Clarke had been wearing a long sleeve shirt, winter seeping into spring, the weather still too cold for anything less. But Lexa had cooked and Clarke had offered to wash the dishes in return, the need to roll up her sleeves imminent.

So she had and Lexa’s curious eyes eventually caught sight of it. She had walked over, taking her wrist much like she had done just now, bringing it closer to her face. Clarke still remembers the way her breath had made her skin tingle, one of the first signs that Clarke felt more than just friendly feelings toward Lexa.

Clarke had opened up then, about her dad, his death. About how heavy it weighed on her, still. About how having that symbol on her wrist helped, even after all these years. Clarke said she knew it sounded silly, that something as simple as a drawing could make something as serious as death feel lighter, expecting Lexa to agree.

What she hadn’t expected was for Lexa to bring her wrist up to her lips, kissing the tattoo softly. She had looked at her then, wide eyes and parted lips, before saying it wasn’t silly. She understood.

For the first time in her life, Clarke knew what it felt like to really, truly be understood.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

Clarke shudders at the memory, trying to blink away the heaviness in her heart. She wonders if tattooing a different symbol on her other wrist will ever help with the piece of her Lexa is taking away now.

“Where did you go?” Lexa asks.

Clarke shakes her head in response. “No where, I’m right here.”

Lexa nods, finally letting go of her arm so she can open her sandwich instead. Clarke joins her, and they both start eating silently. Clarke hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took the first bite.

“Did you enjoy the food last night?” Lexa asks between bites.

“Yeah, it was great,” Clarke says, but it’s a lie. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the food last night. She had barely managed to drag herself to bed, hunger the last thing on her mind. “Thanks again for dropping it off. You really didn’t have to.”

Lexa smiles, moving her right shoulder up and down. “It was no problem. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Clarke wants to reach over, take her face into her hands and pull her until she can kiss her because no one else in this world has ever taken care of her the way Lexa does. But as quickly as that thought goes through her mind, she pushes it away. She can’t think like that anymore. Needs to stop thinking about Lexa as anything other than a friend. And she knows there’s only one way to do that.

“So,” she says, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. She feels like it’ll all come back out soon enough, but she pushes through. She needs to ask the question, needs to know the answer so she can stop holding on to slivers of hope. “How did things go with Costia?”

Lexa is mid-way swallowing a bite of her sandwich and she chokes on it at the question. Clarke’s eyes widen in panic, about to stand up to pat Lexa’s back, but Lexa motions her to stay. She shakes her hand, using the other one to form a fist so she can hit her chest a few times. After a couple of minutes she has recovered, although her eyes remain watery from the coughing fit.

“Sorry,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. She takes a deep breath, and then continues, “It went… okay, I guess. I don’t know.”

She looks conflicted and Clarke doesn’t know if it’s because they are talking about it or because of their meeting last night.

“Are you guys…” Clarke trails off, needing to take a moment before asking the question she’s afraid to hear the answer to. “Did you guys get back together?” she tries as hard as she can to strip her voice of any emotion.

It may come off sounding a little robotic, but that’s better than exposing her real feelings about the whole situation.

Lexa shakes her head. “Not really. It’s too soon,” she says. “A lot has changed in the last four months. I don’t know,” she turns to look out the window then. Her answer leaves Clarke in a weird state of limbo. She’s relieved to hear they aren’t back together, but it doesn’t seem like they won’t get back together, either. It sounds like Lexa is considering it, like maybe she’s guarded and not willing to take Costia back right away after she decided to pack her bags and leave Lexa behind.

Clarke slips into her role of best friend, pushing all other feelings down, deep down. She reaches over then, taking Lexa’s hand in hers. “You’ll figure it out, Lex. You always do.”

Lexa looks at her, eyes hopeful and it takes Clarke’s breath away. Once again she’s overwhelmed by this need to pull her in and kiss her senseless, but she knows she can’t.

That’s not what she is to Lexa and Clarke swears to herself it’s something she’ll learn to live with.

She just needs a little more time.

::::

By some sort of silent agreement neither one of them bring up Costia again. Instead, they discuss the things they usually talk about: their jobs, Lexa’s latest book, the new show Clarke is hooked on.

“You have to watch it,” Clarke says, pulling on the sleeve of Lexa’s light sweater as they walk side by side. They just left the coffee shop, both agreeing it was a good choice considering the change in the weather and the stormy clouds hovering above them, and definitely a place they should revisit once the weather starts getting colder again. 

Lexa’s laugh at her enthusiasm encompasses Clarke’s ears and it makes her chest fill with affection for the woman walking by her side. “You always say that,” Lexa says, casting a sideways glance in her direction. “They’re never as good as you say, though. Let’s be honest, Clarke. You’re into trash TV.”

A hand playfully shoves Lexa’s shoulder, Clarke’s mouth shaped like an ‘O’ at the accusation. Lexa stumbles for a second but quickly recovers, looking at Clarke with a familiar glint in her eyes.

For the first time since hearing the news about Costia being back, Clarke doesn’t feel that heavy weight she’s been carrying around for the past two days. She lets her mind push all thoughts of anyone that’s not Lexa out of her head, allowing herself to enjoy the other woman’s company like there’s not a care in the world.

Lexa loops her arm through Clarke’s then, stepping in closer and tightening her grip. “You know it’s true,” she says with a smirk, and now Clarke understands why she’s holding on so tight. So she can’t escape her grip and push her again.

She tries to break out from her grasp to no avail.

“Coward,” Clarke mutters. Lexa snickers from beside her.

They continue walking next to each other, Lexa’s arm still looped through Clarke’s. Both of them ended up parking in the same garage, which is about five blocks away. Lexa mentioned she had seen Clarke’s car and had even managed to park close to it.

Thunder vibrates through the sky, a light breeze picking up. “I love when it gets like this,” Lexa says, her head leaning back to look up at the sky, blindly letting Clarke guide her as they keep walking. Raindrops begin falling from above, landing on the ground around them and on their clothes, but they’re small enough that they’re not really getting wet yet.

Clarke acknowledges her with a soft hum, knowing one of the things Lexa likes about the rain is to hear the sound of the wind, the storm and the raindrops hitting the ground. There’s no need to fill in the quietness.

They walk for another two blocks in complete silence. Lexa seems to be content with the rain and Clarke’s just happy to be with Lexa. Lexa who looks so soft, damp hair sticking to her head and face, small drops accumulating on her forehead before slowly sliding down.

Lexa whose eyes just shine when she looks at Clarke, bright smile on her face, as if the sun wasn’t completely covered by clouds ready to unleash a storm on them.

As if on cue, thunder strikes again, except this one seems to be much closer. Clarke jumps a little, startled by the loud sound. Lexa instinctively slides her palm down Clarke’s arm, now holding her hand instead. She gives it a light squeeze.

Another strike, this time further away but accompanied by heavy downpour. Clarke can see the parking garage in the distance, only a block away and she can’t wait to be in the safety its multiple covered floors offers. She tightens her hold on Lexa’s hand before she begins running, pulling Lexa with her.

“Clarke!” she hears Lexa yell her name between laughs. “What are you doing?”

It’s now raining so hard and loud Clarke barely manages to hear her. She doesn’t know if Lexa will be able to make out her answer when she replies, “Running to safety!”

It takes them a couple of minutes to reach the parking garage, finally standing somewhere where the rain can’t get them anymore. Clarke’s slightly out of breath and they are both soaking wet.

“I hate your stupid rain,” Clarke grumbles, looking down at her clothes. Her jeans are uncomfortably sticking to her legs, her shirt stuck to her torso as well. A shiver runs through her body as soon as she starts cooling down from the short run.

“I don’t know,” Lexa says, shrugging. “It’s a cute look on you,” she says and Clarke’s eyes snap up to meet Lexa’s. She’s looking at Clarke with a goofy smile on her face, her clothes ruined as well.

“Shut up,” Clarke says, looking away. She hugs her body then, feeling self-conscious, the want to reach up to brush Lexa’s hair away from her face too strong.

“Are you still going to the party tomorrow?” Lexa asks as they start walking to the staircase so they can climb the two flights of stairs it will take to reach the floor they parked in.

Clarke nods, running her hands down her arms, trying to push any excess water away so her car won’t get too wet once she gets in. “Of course. Aren’t you?”

“No, yeah. Definitely,” Lexa says. Clarke looks at her, sensing her hesitation. She waits patiently until Lexa speaks again. “Costia’s coming, too,” she says so more quietly, but Clarke can still hear it loud and clear, her brain going into panic mode at the thought.

Her steps falter, her right foot bumping against a step and she almost trips, but manages to hold on to the railing on the last second.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asks, reaching a hand out to grab Clarke’s elbow.

“I’m fine,” Clarke doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help it when she shakes Lexa’s hold off of her. She can’t deal with Lexa’s touch and affection right now. Costia is going to be at the party tomorrow. Costia and Lexa. Together.

Focusing on the steps in front of her, Clarke avoids Lexa’s eyes on her. She knows she probably hurt her feelings when she pulled away, but she can’t think about it, her mind too busy running over all the scenarios she will have to face tomorrow.

Lexa and Costia walking in together, hand in hand.

Costia leaning in to whisper something in Lexa’s ear and Lexa throwing her head back, laughing like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all her life.

Clarke shakes her head, screaming at her brain to stop torturing her and trying to scramble for an excuse, any reason she can give so she doesn’t have to go. But it’s Raven’s birthday and she can’t miss it. And she just told Lexa she was going. And she’s trying, desperately trying to remain friends with Lexa, even if the thought of seeing her with her new-old girlfriend is killing her.

Suddenly, her wet clothes is the last thing on her mind.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you guys,” Lexa says as they reach their floor. “She asked me to hang out on Saturday, but I told her I couldn’t because of Raven’s party. She asked if she could join and I figured it would be okay.”

Clarke doesn’t know why Lexa is telling her all of this. She wishes she would just stop talking about it altogether. She gets it, her and Costia are… exploring their relationship or whatever the hell they want to call it and Clarke will have to deal with the fact that Costia’s back in their lives, but can Lexa just stop fucking talking about it for a second?

“Do you think Raven will mind?” Lexa asks. They’re now standing by Clarke’s car, Lexa’s only a few stalls away.

Clarke wants to say yes, that she will. Wants to use Raven as an excuse so she can tell Lexa not to bring Costia around because she doesn’t want to see her. Doesn’t want to see _them_. But she knows she can’t do that.

She’s still not brave enough to flat out appease Lexa’s worry, so instead she just shrugs and says, “I don’t know. Guess you should ask her.”

“Right. Maybe I shouldn’t–”

“I gotta go, Lexa,” Clarke says, looking around as if trying to plan her escape. “I’m running late.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Lexa looks at her confused, but quickly shakes it off, nodding her head. “Yeah, of course. See you tomorrow, Clarke.”

Already in her car, Clarke closes the door, still hating the way her clothes feel against her skin, but even more so the way the weight is back in her chest, twisting and tightening even worse than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel so inclined, let me know what you think :) I ended up having to split this story into two parts because it got too long, so I'm posting part one today and part two as soon as I finish it. And then my brain will stop nagging me so I'll be able to go back to my other story.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised here is part two. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read part one, and to those who left kudos and comments. I really enjoyed reading people's thoughts about what's happening.
> 
> I hope you like this part too (and hopefully it'll hurt a little bit less?).
> 
> Enjoy!

“I’m sorry,” Raven says. Her hands are full, carrying two big bowls filled with tortilla chips to her dining room table. “I know you wanted me to say no, but I couldn’t.”

Clarke nods from behind her, aware that Raven can’t see her. She’s carrying a bottle of soda in her right hand, another one tucked tightly under her arm, a bag with plastic cups hanging from her left. “Don’t worry about it,” Clarke says, ignoring the hammering in her chest.

“It’s just–” Raven turns around to face her then, resting her hip against the table. “We were kinda her friends, too. And we are Lexa’s friend, I can’t tell her not to bring whoever she wants when everyone else is.”

“You really don’t have to explain,” Clarke says, reaching over to place a calming hand on her friend’s arm. It’s her birthday and she doesn’t want Raven feeling bad about letting Costia come over or anything else. It’s not her fault, anyway. And she’s not wrong.

They were all Costia’s friends, too. Before she decided to move to California and call things off with Lexa they used to all hang out together. And sure, that was before she left, before she broke Lexa’s heart and before Clarke grew even closer to Lexa, but that doesn’t change anything.

If Lexa is willing to let her back in her life, there’s no excuse why any of them shouldn’t allow the same.

Even if Clarke’s excuse is a pretty damn good one, considering the mere thought of seeing Lexa and Costia together makes Clarke want to bail on her whole entire life and move far, far away. Far away from Lexa and her soon-to-be girlfriend and far away from her own feelings, the same ones that are eating at her from deep within.

Arms wrap around her in a short, tight squeeze before Raven lets go.

“It’ll be okay, Clarke,” she reassures, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I promise.”

Clarke smiles, appreciating her friend’s attempt to make her feel better, no matter how futile it is.

::::

It’s an hour later and the party is in full swing. Music is blaring from the speakers and there’s already at least ten people gathered around Raven’s living room, dining room and kitchen. Octavia and Lincoln are sitting on the couch Clarke and Raven had moved to the corner to allow for a makeshift dance floor. Murphy, Bellamy and Echo are sitting by the dining room table, catching up over beers and nachos. Some of Raven’s coworkers are here too, although Clarke doesn’t remember their names.

So far it’s a fun party and if Clarke could focus on anything but Lexa and Costia’s imminent arrival she would be enjoying herself. But, be that as it may, that’s all she can think about. So she’s hiding in the kitchen instead, nursing a glass of beer. She’s barely able to drink some of it, her encounter with a certain bottle of bourbon just a few days ago still leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

Hiding in the kitchen is a strategy, one she conjured when people started filing in. She asked Raven to greet Lexa very loudly, loud enough for Clarke to hear from there so she could come out and greet them on her own terms, instead of being forced to say hello as soon as they walk in.

She knows it sounds stupid, but it makes her feel like she has at least a little bit of control over the situation and she’ll take as much of that as she can.

“Who are you hiding from?” Lincoln asks when he walks into the kitchen, spotting her right away. She’s standing by the counter near the stove. Her beer and its halfway-torn label to her side.

“No one,” Clarke replies, turning around to busy herself with the food. Raven had purposefully left a few items unfinished so Clarke could pretend to be in there helping instead of hiding.

“Mm,” Lincoln says, walking over to the fridge. He opens it, grabbing another beer from the door. “Octavia’s been looking for you.”

“I’ll be out there in a bit,” Clarke reassures him, grabbing an avocado from the bag and bringing it to the counter so she can start making some guacamole. “Just helping Raven.”

Lincoln nods, heading back to the living room. Before he can leave, though, he pauses at the doorway, turning around to look at Clarke again. “I heard Costia’s back,” he says, Clarke stopping the fork mid-smash.

“Yeah, seems that way,” Clarke says, avoiding his eyes. She focuses on the task at hand instead, returning to smash the avocado.

“You should talk to her,” Lincoln says and Clarke frowns. She looks up. Why should she talk to Costia?

“Lexa!” it’s Raven’s voice coming from the other side of the wall. Lincoln peeks his head through the door.

“Seems like they’re here,” he says, although that much is obvious. He nods his head at her and exits. Clarke assumes he’s going to greet them, as will everyone else, so she takes a couple of minutes before going out there herself.

Beer bottle tightly in hand, she brings it to her lips. She takes a sip, two. A gulp, and then puts it down. That’s as much as her stomach will tolerate right now, the thought of both alcohol and Lexa with Costia in tow too much for her to handle.

“You can do this,” Clarke says under her breath. She runs her hands over her clothes, trying to make herself presentable. For whom, she doesn’t know.

(Let’s rephrase that. She knows exactly for whom. She just doesn’t know why it matters anymore.)

Her eyes find Lexa’s almost as soon as she walks out of the kitchen, their ability to find each other something that still catches Clarke by surprise most of the time. It’s like they have a radar, always pointing towards each other, permanently aware of the other’s presence.

Clarke gives her a small smile and Lexa waves at her. People seem to be busy welcoming Costia back, so Lexa makes her way through the crowd to come stand in front of Clarke.

And damn if Lexa doesn’t manage to take her breath away no matter what she’s wearing.

In absolute contrast from two nights ago when she was standing in Clarke’s living room, Lexa is now rocking a more casual look. She’s wearing tight navy blue pants with a coral colored tank top, covered by an unbuttoned blue jacket that matches her pants.

Her hair is messier, no longer straightened out and instead waves of brown fall over her shoulder.

Clarke wants nothing more than to take the couple of steps that are separating them so she can run her fingers through Lexa’s hair.

“Hey, Clarke,” Lexa says softly, a small smile playing on her lips, as if she’s completely aware of Clarke’s wandering eyes and maybe even her thoughts.

“Hi,” Clarke says, averting her gaze. She can’t take how easily she gets lost in those green eyes. It surprises her when she feels Lexa’s hand on her cheek, then moving up to her forehead. Clarke takes a step back, frowning, confused. “What are you doing?” she asks, miffed by the action.

“Just making sure you didn’t catch a cold after our little adventure in the rain,” Lexa says.

“I’m fine,” Clarke says, bringing her arms around herself. It’s a habit she has quickly picked up in the last few days, a sort of defense mechanism to keep herself from reaching for Lexa as well as to keep Lexa from reaching further into her.

She’s already claimed too much of her.

“There you are,” Clarke hears the voice before seeing the person it’s coming from. It’s been four months since she last heard it, and she doesn’t remember it ever making her feel the way it does right now. The hairs on the back of her neck stand, like she’s a cat ready to attack. Her features harden, her jaw tightening, even her hands have turned into fists. Clarke doesn’t need to look beside Lexa to know Costia is standing there.

“Clarke!” she exclaims and Clarke just wants to run. “Oh my God, it’s so nice to see you,” Costia says, taking a step closer, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Clarke’s arms go up and around the taller woman, but she definitely doesn’t reciprocate her enthuthiasm. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but it doesn’t help when she’s pretty sure she can smell a hint of Lexa’s perfume on her.

After what seems like an eternity, Costia finally lets go and Clarke takes three steps back, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“How are you?” Costia asks, smiling big. And Clarke absolutely hates the way she’s making her feel. Small and insecure and so out of place. She scans around the room, trying to find Raven to send her a silent SOS, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“I’m good,” Clarke says. She knows it sounds curt, but she can’t be bothered to care. She may have to get used to this. To Costia, to losing the possibility of Lexa, but it doesn’t have to be today. “You?”

“Great!” she replies and if she noticed Clarke’s demeanor, she’s not giving it away. “I’m so happy to be back,” she says and she sounds so cheerful Clarke wants to gag. “I missed it so much.”

Their whole interaction up until now had been a nightmare, but it was nothing in comparison to the way Clarke feels when Costia reaches over to take Lexa’s hand, bringing it up to her lips. Clarke’s too busy trying to mask the hurt from showing on her face to notice the way Lexa tenses at the gesture.

“I- I think Raven needs some help in the kitchen,” Clarke says, not even bothering to wait for a response before turning around, walking down the hallway. She knows that’s not where the kitchen is, but she needs to get away from the people and the noise and the pounding of her heart.

She needs to leave.

“Clarke!” she almost runs straight into Octavia who had just walked out of the bathroom. “Hey,” she says, softer this time. “Are you okay?”

Clarke tells her brain to nod her head yes, but it ignores her completely and instead she shakes her head no. “Hey,” Octavia says again, reaching over to touch her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke casts a quick glance over her shoulder to find Costia and Lexa standing in the same spot where she left them. Costia is talking to someone, Clarke can’t tell who because their back is turned to her, and Lexa’s still standing right next to her, but she’s not participating in the conversation. Instead, she’s staring straight at Clarke. 

Clarke turns her head back around.

Leaning to the side, Octavia peers over Clarke’s shoulder to see what she was looking at.

“Oh,” she says. “Damn, Clarke. I’m sorry.”

Clarke shakes her head. It’s fine. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. She just needs to get the hell away from here. Just for tonight. She can start being Lexa’s good friend again tomorrow.

“Clarke, there you are,” Raven says, appearing from behind her. She stands next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

“She’s coming over,” Octavia’s the only one who’s facing the living room right now. Clarke’s eyes widen in panic. “Don’t worry, I got this,” she says as she walks past them, giving Clarke’s arm a light squeeze before slipping between Raven and the wall.

“Lexa, hey!” Clarke hears Octavia say from behind her, her voice and Lexa’s sounding further and further away. Clarke can only assume Octavia redirected her back into the living room.

She’s never been more grateful for her friends than she is right now.

“That bad, huh?” Raven says. She takes Clarke’s hand and guides her toward her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m sorry, Rae,” Clarke says as she sits down at the foot of Raven’s bed. “I really didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“You’re not ruining anything, Clarke,” Raven says, taking a seat beside her. Her hand comes to rest on Clarke’s knee. “But dude… you need to go talk to her. Stop moping around and let her know how you really feel.”

Sweat starts forming on Clarke’s forehead at the mere thought. What is she supposed to say? What difference would it make now, anyway?

“I wish I had listened to you before,” Clarke admits. She hangs her head, staring at her hands neatly placed on her lap. “But now it’s too late. Costia’s back and–”

“So what?” Raven interrupts. The mattress raises and then dips as Raven adjusts her position, turning to face Clarke. Now one leg is under her, the other one pointing at Clarke, her knee meeting Clarke’s thigh. “They’re not together.”

“Yet,” Clarke says, the image of Costia kissing Lexa’s wrist burning a hole in her mind.

“I’ve seen the way Lexa looks at you, Clarke,” Raven says. “You’re both so stupidly into each other, it’s disgusting. But if neither one of you says anything, you’ll both be wasting your time.”

“Costia took her home the other night,” Clarke says, like that explains anything.

“So what? They went on a date, you don’t know what happened after.”

“Neither do you,” Clarke counters. She has began picking at invisible threads on her legs.

Raven sighs from beside her, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Clarke’s shoulder. “Ugh, you’re both so stubborn,” Raven says. She hits her head against Clarke’s shoulder a couple of times. “Fine, if you wanna be that way, fine,” she stands up then, extending her hand so Clarke can take it. “But at least come dance with me. It’s my birthday.”

Every fiber in her body is screaming at her not to, and Clarke really doesn’t want to. But it’s Raven and she’s her friend and fuck it if dancing with her isn’t the least she can do. So she takes the offered hand with a sigh.

“Let it be noted I am doing this against my will,” Clarke says, standing up.

“Noted,” Raven says, leading them out of her bedroom and into the living room. “Now come shake that ass for me, Griffin.”

::::

Clarke stands in the middle of Raven’s living room, dancing with her. Octavia and Lincoln are dancing right next to them, having joined them as soon as Raven and her hit the dance floor. She closes her eyes, filtering everyone else out, trying to enjoy herself.

It’s slightly easier to push her heartache aside when she concentrates on the catchy song currently playing through the speakers, letting her mind focus on the lyrics and forcing her brain to think about the words she’s singing and nothing else.

She laughs when she feels Raven’s hands sliding up and down her sides. She always gets handsy when dancing, but Clarke doesn’t mind, enjoying the attention and the way it makes her skin feel alive. It doesn’t mean anything, Raven isn’t more than just her friend, but her touch helps keep Clarke anchored to this moment, instead of letting her mind wander to things she’d rather not think about right now (or ever again).

Lifting her arms up, hands in the air, Clarke moves her hips side to side to the rhythm of the new song that has begun playing. She moves her right hand to her hair, messy strands covering her face before she slides her hand down to her neck. She smirks when she feels Raven’s hand gliding down, closer to her backside, and Clarke starts rolling her hips forward, her body meeting Raven’s in the middle.

Her face slightly turned to the side, she opens her eyes only to find Lexa staring at her. She’s not looking at her face exactly, but at her body, her eyes following every move of her hips and upper body. Her lips are parted and Clarke thinks she’s imagining things when she sees the tip of Lexa’s tongue come out to lick them.

She doesn’t remember the last time someone looked at her like that. It makes her knees go weak, and she’s afraid for a split second her legs are going to wobble and she’ll fall over, but she manages to continue her movements, her eyes never leaving Lexa.

Not until Lexa looks up and Clarke finds them to be the darkest shade of green she’s ever seen. It takes Lexa a split second to realize she’s been caught, but once she does she immediately looks away, busying herself with the drink she’s currently holding in her hand.

Clarke continues to dance, her eyes glancing over to find Lexa over and over, but she never looks back at her again.

The music goes on and so does the dancing for another twenty minutes, until Clarke feels so thirsty she needs to excuse herself to go get some water from the kitchen. Raven silently asks her if she’s okay, and Clarke nods. Dancing has kept her mind busy enough and even though she keeps looking at Lexa hoping to find any signs of what she saw earlier, she thinks she can fair fetching some water by herself.

Except she’s not counting on Costia making an appearance in the kitchen just as she’s filling the glass up.

“Hey,” Costia says, smiling. “I was told there’s more beer here?”

Clarke points at the cooler sitting on the right side of the fridge, where the cheap beer sits.

“Thanks,” she says, and it doesn’t escape Clarke’s attention that she’s grabbing two bottles.

“How have you been?” Costia asks, looking around until her eyes land on the bottle opener that’s sitting on the counter. She uncaps both of them before putting it back down.

Clarke shrugs, not really in the mood to engage in small talk. Especially not with Costia. “Fine. How about you?” she asks, because as much as Clarke hates her guts right now, she still feels the need to be polite.

“Good,” Costia replies, nodding. She looks down at the bottles in her hand, and then back at Clarke. “Hey, are we cool?”

Blinking a couple of times, Clarke has to work hard to erase the surprise from her face. Lowering her eyebrows, she nods. She didn’t expect her to be so direct.

“Are you sure?” Costia insists. “I feel like you’re… I don’t know. Did I do something to piss you off?”

A long list pops up in her mind, but the biggest item of them all is the one she answers with, “You mean besides breaking Lexa’s heart when you left?”

Because really, that’s what it boils down to. Feelings for Lexa aside, Clarke can’t stand Costia anymore because Clarke was around to witness Lexa falling apart, her heart breaking into pieces. She was around to help her collect herself. And now Costia has the nerve to come back to reclaim what she decided she didn’t want not that long ago?

“Fair enough,” Costia says. She places the bottles she’s been holding this whole time on the counter, resting her backside against it, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I’m back now.”

“You think that changes anything?” Clarke challenges, trying her hardest to keep her voice low. “You’re back, sure, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you left her to begin with,” she says, disdain coating the last few words.

“She forgave me,” Costia says, as if that negates her previous actions. “Why can’t you do the same?”

Why does she even care? What does it matter if Clarke forgives her or not? She’s not the one Costia is trying to win back.

“Because,” Clarke says, her jaw tightening. She takes a couple of steps toward Costia to make sure she can say her next words without anyone else hearing them. “Lexa’s heart is too big to a fault. Mine isn’t,” she says, although right now it’s beating so hard and fast it’s like it’s trying to disagree. “So she may be okay with you coming back and sweeping back in, but you’ll need to do a lot more to prove that you’re not going to hurt her again.”

“I’m not planning on it, Clarke,” Costia says, pushing herself off the counter. She stands up straight, gaining a few inches over her. She may be trying to look intimidating, but it’s not working. Clarke would fight a giant if it meant defending Lexa.

(She’s so fucking lost for this girl, but that’s a thought to mourn over another day.)

“That job didn’t work, and I’m not–” Costia seems to realize what she said a bit too late, her mouth clasping shut.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clarke asks, incredulous. “Is that why you came back?” Costia looks away, avoiding Clarke’s accusatory look. “I can’t believe you,” Clarke says, storming off. Costia calls her name, but it’s drowned out as soon as the kitchen door closes behind her.

Her mind reeling, Clarke looks around for Raven. Her gaze lands on Lexa who’s now sitting on the couch. Their eyes meet for a split second, that radar absolutely inevitable, but she averts her eyes then, going back to her original task.

She can see Lexa stand up from the corner of her eye, but she’s too busy spotting Raven and walking to her to notice anything else. Clarke takes Raven’s hand, pulling her from the conversation she’s having with one of her coworkers.

“Hey!” Raven protests, but lets herself be dragged back into her bedroom without much resistance, the door shutting behind them once again.

“Damn, Clarke. I didn’t know you were so desperate for–” her joke dies on her lips when Clarke speaks next.

“I need to tell her,” Clarke says, pacing back and forth in front of Raven’s bed. “How do I tell her?” she asks hopelessly. She only stands still for a second before she starts pacing again.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, cowgirl. Tell who?”

“Lexa.”

“Tell her what?” Raven asks, trying to catch up. She’s standing by her bed, her eyes following Clarke’s movements as she goes left and right, left and right.

“I don’t know!” Clarke says, lost. “That Costia is a fucking bitch? That I’m head over heels in love with her? That she deserves better, at least?”

That’s it. That’s what she needs to tell her. Because it’s not about Clarke, it’s not about her feelings for Lexa. It’s not about being jealous or frustrated or disappointed that she didn’t act when she had the chance. None of that matters if Lexa is happy, if Lexa is with someone who loves her and appreciates her and deserves her.

But Costia is not it. Clarke may not be it, either, but that’s not even an option anymore, so that point is moot.

“What are you talking about?” And suddenly Clarke remembers Raven is still standing there, confused and waiting to be clued in. And so she tells her, how Costia came back not because she missed Lexa and realized leaving her had been a big mistake, but because her job didn’t work out and she had nowhere else to go.

“Oh, shit,” Raven says, sitting down.

“What do I tell her?” Clarke asks, desperately looking for answers. “Should I tell her?”

“You should’ve told her how you feel a long time ago,” Raven says, shaking her head. “Would’ve saved us all of this.”

“That’s not what this is about. This can’t be about me and– I just need to know, Rae. If I tell her, I need you to tell me I’m not commiting friendship suicide.”

Raven laughs softly, shaking her head. “I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that woman that would make her stop caring about you, Clarke.”

“You think?” Clarke asks, hopeful.

“Positive.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, nodding. Her heart is pounding in her chest and she doesn’t know what she’s going to tell Lexa, she just knows she has to say something. She at least has a right to know. If she doesn’t care that’s the reason why Costia’s back, then that’s fine. But she has to know. “Okay,” she repeats. “Thanks, Raven,” she says, and then leaves the bedroom, trying to find Lexa.

She comes up empty when she searches the living room and dining room, same with the kitchen. Raven’s place isn’t too big, but there’s enough people and dark spaces where Lexa could be in right now without Clarke knowing. She wonders if maybe she went to the bathroom, but Costia isn’t anywhere in sight either and that’s when Clarke remembers the balcony.

Walking past sweaty bodies, all who are dancing in the middle of the living room, she makes it to the sliding doors. Clarke spots Lexa and Costia standing in a secluded corner, to the side where the light emanating from the living room doesn’t reach. Costia’s back is facing Clarke, but she gets a full view of Lexa.

There’s a full moon out, and it offers enough light so Clarke can still see Lexa’s face. She hesitates for a second, just mesmerized by Lexa’s features being showered by the moonlight. She’s smiling at whatever Costia is saying, her cheeks a light shade of pink. Her hair is still pulled to one side and she’s unconsciously playing with the bottom of it, threading her fingers through locks.

Clarke feels like she’s intruding in some personal moment, which in some sense she is. She turns around then, thinking she can wait; she can find Lexa later when she’s not outside, alone with Costia. But then she remembers why she needs to talk to her, so she turns back around, her hand freezing once it reaches the handle.

It didn’t seem like she turned around for long, but however much time it was, it was enough for Lexa and Costia to kiss.

No matter how much her brain had warned her of this possibility, nothing could have ever prepared her for what seeing Lexa kiss Costia would do to her. She stumbles backward, enough that she no longer can see the two people standing outside. She’s not paying attention to where she’s going until her back hits someone. Who, she doesn’t know.

“Sorry,” she mumbles to whoever she bumped into, finally turning around to watch where she’s going.

She’s late. She’s late. She’s too damn late.

Her eyes start to water and she blinks a few times, trying to make the pain go away, but it won’t. She can feel it settling deep inside her, the image of Lexa and Costia kissing the only thing she can see when she closes her eyes.

Once she makes it past the crowd she turns to her left, heading straight for the front door. She doesn’t remember if she brought a jacket or not, and doesn’t care enough to figure it out. She’s out of Raven’s apartment without even realizing it, her feet guiding her to her car.

She’s not even thinking about it anymore, she’s just going through the motions: finding her car parked by the sidewalk, getting in, driving until she’s home. It’s not until she’s safe inside her own four walls that she finally collapses, her chest constricting in such a painful way there’s no room for her sobs to even make a sound.

She doesn’t know what time it is when she finally falls asleep, exhausted and spent, on the living room couch.

::::

Sundays suck. For a lot of reasons, like it being the last day of the week, which means Clarke has to work the next day. But this Sunday– this Sunday in particular sucks more than usual.

She had woken up a couple of hours ago to a few text messages from Raven.

**Raven [12:17am]:** _Where did you go?_

 **Raven [12:18am]:** _Clarke?_

 **Raven [12:19am]:** _I take it it didn’t go well?_

She had sent a reply as soon as her eyes had finished adjusting to the light coming in through the blinds, her eyes still puffy from crying having a harder time than usual.

**Clarke [1:23pm]:** _Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. But yeah, it was too late_

 **Clarke [1:23pm]:** _But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just need a couple of days_

It’s not that she actually believes that she’ll be fine. It’s just her way of asking for space, and she knew Raven would get it. A simple  _ ‘Take your time. Love you _ ’ had been Raven’s response, and Clarke knew she didn’t have to say anything else.

Lexa’s text messages, on the other hand, were ignored much like they had been a few days ago.

**Lexa [12:08am]:** _I haven’t seen you in a bit_

 **Lexa [12:08am]:** _Where did you sneak off to?_

 **Lexa [12:21am]:** _I didn’t realize you had left already. Sorry I missed you_

 **Lexa [1:46am]:** _Did you make it home okay?_

 **Lexa [10:23am]:** _Hey, let me know when you wake up_

 **Lexa [12:39am]:** _Still sleeping?_

**Lexa (2 Missed Calls, 2:04pm)**

**Lexa [3:15pm]:** _Clarke?_

 **Lexa [3:16pm]:** _dammit Clarke, stop ignoring me_

::::

Feet propped up on her coffee table, Clarke is mindlessly scrolling through the content of different streaming services. Nothing catches her attention, her favorite show not even an option. She doesn’t want to associate it with the way she’s feeling right now.

She’s lost and conflicted, wondering how she’s supposed to move on. Torn between her loyalty to Lexa and their friendship and the need to protect herself. Seeing Lexa and Costia kiss had hurt more than she had ever imagined it would. What is she supposed to do now?

Squeezing her eyes tightly, she tries to push the image away from her mind. Every time she thinks about Lexa that’s all she sees, Costia’s fingers tangled in her hair, Lexa’s hands holding onto her hips. Their eyes closed, their lips connected.

Clarke groans, grabbing a throw pillow and burying her face in it so she can scream into it without having to worry about her neighbors.

She’s had this feeling at the pit of her stomach since last night, like a knot that only gets bigger and bigger with each passing minute. Her chest also feels tight and she understands now why people say love resides in the heart; that’s exactly where she feels it the most.

A knock on the door pulls her from her thoughts. It’s a welcomed distraction, but also a confusing one. She’s not expecting anyone. She doesn’t think Raven would show up, she knows Clarke asked for time. She probably relayed the message to Octavia, so she wouldn’t show up either.

Lexa’s probably too busy having mind-blowing make-up sex with her new-old girlfriend to even bother.

Another knock, more forceful this time.

And another.

_ Knock, knock, KNOCK! _

“Clarke,” it’s Lexa, no doubt about it. Her voice travels into the apartment, angry. “I swear to God, if you don’t open your door right now–”

_ KNOCK! KNOCK! KOCK! _

“I know you’re home. I can hear the TV. I saw your car parked outside. Open the door before I disrupt your neighbors.”

Clarke finally springs into action, getting up from the couch. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” she yells, reaching the door and opening to find Lexa mid-knock.

“Finally,” Lexa mutters, her eyes ablaze. She walks past Clarke into the apartment. She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday and Clarke has to urge her brain to not start listing all the reasons why she hasn’t changed into a new set of clothes.

_ She probably came over from Costia’s place _ , it yells anyway and Clarke has to push into her temples to stop it from repeating it over and over.

“What is wrong with you?” Lexa asks, turning around after Clarke has closed the door. Clarke frowns, confused. Is she mad because she confronted Costia last night? Because Clake cares about her and doesn’t want to see her get hurt again? Just because Lexa took Costia back doesn’t mean Clarke will stop caring about her.

She never meant to meddle in their relationship, she just thought Lexa had a right to know the truth before making a decision.

“What did I do?” Lexa asks, stepping closer. She no longer looks angry, just sad. Defeated.

“You didn’t do anything,” Clarke says, looking at her feet. She’s wearing mismatched socks, she hadn’t realized until now.

“Then what the hell, Clarke?” Clarke can see Lexa placing her hands on her hips out of the corner of her eyes. “I don’t understand,” Lexa says softly, walking to the couch and sitting down. She places her elbows on her knees, burying her face in her hands. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

_ Because I’m in love with you _ , Clarke’s brain screams, but her mouth remains shut. Because being close to you  _ hurts _ . Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to live my life now that you’re with someone else. These are all the thoughts running through Clarke’s mind, all the things she wishes she had the courage to say, but doesn’t.

“I didn’t mean to,” Clarke replies quietly. And it’s somehow true. Maybe she did mean to push her away because she needs to protect herself, but she didn’t mean to fall in love with her.

Lexa lifts her head to look up at her from her spot on the couch, awaiting further explanation. When Clarke doesn’t offer it, she presses, “Everything was fine. We were  _ fine _ . And then–” They both know what happened next, completely aware of the moment everything changed.

_ She’s back _ .

The words still ring in her ears. And Clarke feels so much worse than she ever imagined possible, even back then.

“It’s not my fault she came back,” Lexa says. And of course it’s not, Clarke doesn’t blame her for that. She doesn’t blame her for anything, really. Nothing is Lexa’s fault –except maybe the fact that she’s beautiful and amazing and so impossible not to fall in love with that Clarke never, ever stood a chance– but that doesn’t mean pushing Lexa away isn’t what Clarke needs to do.

With that in mind Clarke walks over to the couch, sitting down next to Lexa but with as much distance between them as possible. They sit there in silence for a few minutes, Clarke trying to take in as much as possible. She knows she’ll have to stop hanging out with Lexa for a while. It’s the only way she’ll be able to move on.

And whenever she’s ready to come back, whenever she’s okay enough to become friends once more, she knows she’ll never be able to look at her the same way again. So she takes her time to savor every second of it, because as much as it hurts to look at Lexa knowing what they can’t be, there’s a bigger part of her that wants to file away every little detail possible.

Details like the smallest of ears poking through strands of hair. Clarke has always wanted to run her fingertips over its shell, has wondered if it’s a sensitive spot for her.

Like how her green eyes have small specks of yellow intermixed and they become more prominent when Lexa’s excited or upset.

Like her full lips, and her cute nose, and her perfect eyebrows.

All filed away in a corner inside Clarke’s mind.

She takes a deep breath then, tries to steady her heartbeat before she speaks next. Lexa is looking at her curiously, understanding –because of course she understands– that her silence is nothing more than Clarke collecting her thoughts, finding the words. And she waits, waits until Clarke is ready to talk.

And then Clarke talks.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Clarke says and she means it. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to. I–I guess there are things I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I didn’t and now it’s too late and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“What is it?” Lexa asks, scooting closer. Clarke wants to move away, but she can’t, she’s already sitting next to the armrest and there’s no more couch left. So she stays, unconsciously freezing in place at Lexa’s proximity, because her perfume invades her sense of smell and the hand Lexa places on her knee spreads a warmth across Clarke’s body she’s not sure she’ll ever learn how to live without.

Clarke swallows before continuing. “I like you, Lexa,” she says, avoiding the other, heavier l-word. That’s too much and it’s not like it would make a difference, anyway. “Like, really like you. So much that for the past almost five months you’ve been the only thing in my mind. You’re the first thing I think of in the morning when I wake up, even before coffee,” she says, laughing at her own joke, even though it’s not really funny. “I want to be with you–” she sighs, as if expelling not only her breath, but also the possibility.

“I realize that’s not possible,” Clarke continues. She’s been looking at the floor in front of her this whole time, afraid of looking at Lexa while she speaks. But now, now she needs to look because she needs to make sure Lexa confirms what she’s saying. So she does and is surprised by what she finds. Wide green eyes staring at her, searching her face. For what, Clarke doesn’t know. She’s already laying everything on the line.

“I’m not what you want,” Clarke says, ignoring her want to decipher Lexa’s emotions right now and needing to get this out so she can begin to move on. “It’s clear Costia is everything you need and–”

Her words are cut off when Lexa surges forward, soft lips pressed against her own. Clarke’s eyes close for a split second before they open again, wide. She pulls back while simultaneously placing her hands on Lexa’s shoulders and pushing her back. She stands up in a panic.

“What are you doing?” Clarke asks, heart beating fast. She brings her left hand to her lips, not sure if to wipe the kiss off or to commit it to memory. “What the hell, Lexa?”

Lexa stands up and takes a step toward Clarke. “I thought you said–”

“Why would you kiss me?” Clarke demands to know, her voice harsh and her hands turning into fists. In what twisted world would Lexa think it’s okay to kiss her after she confessed the way she feels, knowing she has a girlfriend waiting for her at home? “Do you think this is some sort of joke?”

Lexa opens her mouth to reply, but Clarke’s seething and she doesn’t have time for whatever excuse is about to fall off her lips. “I’m being honest, Lexa. I like you, I’m not just attracted to you. I don’t want to just make out or sleep with you whenever your girlfriend is not around. Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?” she yells, finally losing her temper.

She’s breathing heavy, agitated.

“Clarke, please. I’m sorry–”

“You’re sorry?” Clarke scoffs. “Well, great then,” she says, lifting her arms and then bringing them down, smacking them against her thighs. “All is good now! You can go back to your girlfriend, thanks for stopping by,” she walks over to the door, ready to see Lexa out.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, and her tone is so stern Clarke stops midway through grabbing the knob to open the door. “Costia’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well, whatever it is you guys have decided to label–”

“We’re not together,” Lexa interrupts, walking over until she’s within touching distance.

Eyebrows knitted, Clarke shakes her head. “That’s not true. I saw you guys kissing last night.”

“She kissed me,” Lexa says, emphasizing the first and last word.

“Pretty sure you kissed her back,” Clarke says. She remembers.

“I don’t know what you saw,” Lexa says, reaching over to grab Clarke’s hand. “But I pushed her away after she kissed me. We were just talking and then suddenly she’s leaning in and her lips are on mine, but Clarke,” Lexa tugs at her hand. “It’s not going to work out.”

Those words make Clarke’s blood boil again. So Lexa gave it a shot but Costia changed her mind  _ again _ and now Clarke is, what, a rebound?

She’s no one’s fucking rebound.

“Get out,” Clarke says, shaking her hand away from Lexa’s grip and successfully reaching for the door knob this time. She twists it and pulls it open, except it doesn’t open all the way. When Clarke looks up she sees Lexa’s hand on the door, pushing it closed. “Lexa,” Clarke threatens. “Let go and get the fuck out,” Clarke pulls harder, but Lexa is stronger and she pushes back.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, searching her eyes, but Clarke looks away, looks at the door and turns to grab the knob with both hands to pull the door open. “Clarke,” Lexa repeats. “Stop for a second and listen to me.”

“No!” Clarke says, tugging at the door even though it’s not even budging. She gives up a second later, too tired and heartbroken to care anymore. So she lets go, the door slamming shut from the lack of resistance. “I’m not going to be your rebound girl just because Costia decided she wanted to leave again,” Clarke tells her, defeated.

Lexa moves to stand between Clarke and the door to block it. She grabs Clarke by the shoulders, shaking her softly, but enough so that Clarke looks at her. “Will you stop?” Lexa asks.

“What do you want?” Clarke asks, lifting her arms through the middle, going over Lexa’s and pushing them down so Lexa’s no longer holding onto her.

“You!” Lexa says, her tone rising for the first time tonight. But then it softens again. “You, Clarke. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Today, last night, all these months all I wanted was–”

The words slowly start registering and Clarke has to blink a couple of times, needs to make sure she heard her right. Is Lexa just saying this right now or does she mean it?

They’re still standing by the door, Lexa’s back to it. Clarke takes a step forward, Lexa taking one back until her back hits the door. Clarke is searching Lexa’s eyes and face for any sign of a lie, but she can’t find any. Her pulse is beating hard. “Do you mean it?” she has to ask, has to make sure, because if there’s any doubt at all then she needs Lexa to leave.

She couldn’t survive whatever may happen next if Lexa isn’t one hundred percent sure Clarke is what she wants.

Green eyes lock on blue and Lexa nods. “More than anything.”

“Say it again,” Clarke growls.

Lexa frowns, confused. “Say what again?”

“What you said before,” Clarke explains, hoping Lexa understands what she’s asking for. It takes a second, but then it clicks.

“I want you,” Lexa says, biting every syllable, her voice low.

A shot courses through Clarke at the words, at the look in Lexa’s eyes, at the way they’ve darkened and are looking at her and Clarke’s body reacts on its own accord. She reaches for Lexa’s jacket, takes purchase of its collar. She shoves Lexa against the door and presses her body against her. Standing mere millimeters away, Clarke searches Lexa’s face one last time. She finds everything she’s looking for in it and she reaches up, capturing Lexa’s lips with her own.

The kiss is harsh, a far cry from Lexa’s tentative kiss from just a few minutes ago. Clarke presses her whole body further into Lexa, taking the time to enjoy the feel of the other woman’s full lips against her own. Kissing Lexa is everything Clarke had ever imagined.

It’s exhilarating and it makes Clarke’s knees go weak, especially when she pushes her tongue into Lexa’s mouth and Lexa simply moans, her hands wrapping around Clarke’s lower back, pulling her closer. They keep kissing, Clarke’s hands finding Lexa’s hair and she finally gets to run her fingers through it. She pushes it back, away from her shoulder and thinks of all the things she’s always wondered about Lexa.

She knows now is her time to find out about every single one of them.

She breaks the kiss then, enjoying the way Lexa is looking at her, panting, desperate. Clarke’s lips find Lexa’s ear, takes her earlobe between her lips, sucking and loving every single sound that’s coming out of Lexa’s throat, enjoying the way her grip tightens around her.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa whispers as Clarke’s lips start moving down. Lexa looks up, extending her neck to make it easier for Clarke to find Lexa’s pulse point. She starts sucking hard, knows she’s going to leave marks, but she doesn’t care. “I want you so bad,” Lexa groans. Her hands have begun traveling under Clarke’s shirt, the feeling of Lexa’s fingertips raking over her skin making her desperate for more.

Grabbing Lexa’s jacket again, she pushes it down her shoulders until it falls on the ground, the tank top underneath low and wide enough that Clarke can continue exploring Lexa’s body with her mouth, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her neck, finding her collarbone. Lexa’s hands move away from her back and up to tangle in blonde locks while Clarke’s lips keep pressing kisses against her chest.

Clarke runs her hands down the side of Lexa’s body, her palms pressing against her breasts, bringing them together, her thumbs brushing erect nipples on their way down. Lexa lifts her chest, her grip on Clarke’s hair getting tighter the lower Clarke’s hands go.

Sliding fingers down a taut stomach, Clarke lets out a moan at the way it twitches under her fingertips. Her face has moved to the other side of Lexa’s neck, this time biting down hard before sucking, Lexa’s heavy breathing like music to her ears. Her hands find the waist of Lexa’s pants, nimble fingers wrapping around a single button until it’s freed. She finds the zipper soon after, sliding it down slowly, way slower than her wildly beating heart would want.

Lexa whispers her name just as Clarke’s hands grab onto her waistband, ready to pull them down. Clarke bites down on Lexa’s neck one last time, smiling at the groan she feels forming in Lexa’s throat way before it leaves her lips. She places a soft kiss on the spot she can already see reddening and pulls away then, her mind memorizing everything about Lexa right in this moment. 

The way her pupils are dilated, the way her chest is rising and falling with each breath, the way her parted lips look swollen. Clarke can’t resist but to lean forward again, her lips locking with Lexa’s one more time, kissing her desperately. They both moan into each other’s mouths, Lexa’s hand sliding down to grip Clarke’s ass, squeezing tight. Clarke can feel wetness pooling between her legs and she can’t take it anymore, she needs to have Lexa, taste her, devour her.

So she tightens the hold on Lexa’s waistband and drags it down as she kneels in front of her. Her knees hit the ground at the same time as Lexa’s pants do. She looks up for a second only to find wild eyes looking at her. Clarke rakes her fingernails up Lexa’s legs until she finds the top of her underwear. She wraps her fingers around it, placing an open mouth kiss on it before she slides it down.

Lexa’s hands land back on her head once more. Clarke wraps an arm around Lexa’s right thigh, lifting it up until it’s over her shoulder, wrapping around her back. She takes a deep breath, moaning when she finally smells Lexa. Lexa who’s so fucking wet Clarke can’t wait to taste her anymore.

A loud thud follows the first stroke of Clarke’s tongue against Lexa’s center, Clarke can only assume it’s from Lexa dropping her head back, hitting the door. Another stroke, this time longer, a filthy moan escaping Lexa as she slides her tongue from the bottom of her slit all the way up to her clit.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa breathes, her hips moving against her mouth every time Clarke’s tongue touches her clit. It’s so fucking hard Clarke can’t help but to moan against it. She wants to take it between her lips, suck on it until Lexa is coming all over her mouth, but she waits. She wants, no,  _ needs _ to taste Lexa some more.

And so she does, sliding her tongue up and down between her lips, enjoying the way Lexa’s wetness coats her tongue. She wants to tell her how good she tastes, but that would mean stopping what she’s doing and there’s no way she can stop now. She’s too far gone.

And Lexa’s grip on her head is too tight. Even if Clarke wanted to pull away, she doesn’t think she could.

Another moan, this time louder and deeper, escapes Lexa’s lips followed by her name when Clarke pushes her tongue into Lexa’s opening as much as their position allows. She stiffens it, moving her head back and forward to slide her tongue in and out of Lexa, the other woman panting and matching her movements.

“Fuck, shit, Clarke,” is all Lexa says, over and over again. “I need you,” she pants. “Fuck, Clarke, I need you to make me come.”

The words ignite something within Clarke, her whole entire body turning to jelly. She needs to tighten her grip on Lexa’s left leg and ass to stop herself from falling apart altogether. She wants to give Lexa what she’s asking for; she would give Lexa everything she ever asked for.

So she stops moving her head, sliding her tongue out of her, relaxing it as she presses all of it against Lexa, sliding it up until the tip of her tongue finds Lexa’s clit. If Clarke thought it was hard before, there’s no words to describe how it feels right now.

Wrapping her lips around it, Clarke starts sucking on it, letting the top of her tongue brush against Lexa’s clit in tandem. Lexa’s breathing is getting harder and louder, the hold on Clarke’s head stronger.

“Don’t stop,” Lexa breathes, pulling Clarke closer to her. “Fuck, Clarke, please don’t stop,” she begs and Clarke wishes she could stay here forever.

Her lips still around the bundle of nerves, Clarke tightens her hold around Lexa’s legs when she feels them begin to shake. Lexa keeps calling her name, over and over and over, ‘fuck’s and ‘oh shit’s coming out faster and faster with each suction until Lexa’s whole entire body is shaking against Clarke.

Clarke has to keep her hold on Lexa strong to keep her face in place, making sure her lips never leave Lexa’s clit until she’s completely done coming in her mouth. Chin glistening, Clarke lets Lexa slowly slide her leg back down until both feet are touching the ground.

Lexa is still shaking, panting and Clarke makes sure to keep her hands on her as she stands up to help Lexa stay upright. Once she has fully straighten up Lexa’s head finally comes back up and she leans her whole body against the door.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa says, slowly opening her eyes. “That was–” she stops talking when her eyes seem to land on Clarke’s face. Her mouth specifically. Clarke knows what she’s looking at, and so she licks her lips slowly, making sure to bring Lexa’s come in her mouth, moaning at the taste.

Green eyes immediately darken again. Before Clarke can say anything, Lexa’s hand finds the back of her neck and she pulls Clarke in, kissing her fervently. Their tongues mix in Clarke’s mouth, Lexa tasting herself in her.

And shit, Clarke didn’t realize she could get any more wet than she already was. But the throbbing between her legs says otherwise, and she needs a release.

Almost as if reading her thoughts, Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, lifting her up. Clarke lets out a small gasp in surprise at the sudden movement, her legs automatically wrapping around Lexa’s waist, her arms around her neck.

Turning them around, Lexa pushes Clarke against the door, her back hitting it as Lexa presses her body against her. Clarke’s slightly above her now, and she needs to dip her head in order to kiss Lexa again. She feels some pressure against her center from the current position, but it’s not enough, so she starts grinding against Lexa while their lips stay locked.

“Not enough,” Clarke groans, frustrated, against Lexa’s lips and is thankful when Lexa takes the hint right away.

She walks them toward the living room then, Clarkes arms and legs tightly wrapped around the other woman. She can’t believe she’s strong enough to carry them to the couch and that thought alone turns her on even more.

Lexa places her down and Clarke doesn’t let her pull away, taking a hold of her shirt to pull her back on top of her. Lexa lands with one leg between Clarke’s, the other on the outside of her hip, and Lexa pushes her hipbone up, putting much needed pressure against Clarke’s throbbing center.

Clarke grinds her hips with each thrust, trying to meet Lexa, but it’s still not enough. Nothing is fucking enough.

“More,” Clarke says, pushing Lexa away from where her lips had began exploring her neck. Lexa’s laughter vibrates against her skin before her mouth is completely gone.

“That’s what I wanted to do before,” Lexa says as she sits up. “But someone was in a hurry,” she says with a smirk and Clarke rolls her eyes at her. Lexa reaches down to place her hands on Clarke’s hips. First she slides them up, pressing down against Clarke’s sides as she pulls her shirt up. Clarke sits up on her elbows, taking turns lifting her arms up until Lexa has completely gotten rid of her top.

It doesn’t go unnoticed how Lexa’s eyes immediately travel to her breasts and Clarke knows she’s staring at her erect nipples when Lexa bites her bottom lip. Lexa reaches behind Clarke’s back then, unclasping her bra and sliding the straps down her arms once Clarke has lied back down.

An audible gulp follows once her tits come into full view and Lexa surges forward, hands on each side of Clarke as she leans in to take a hard nipple between her lips, sucking on it. Clarke moans at the contact, Lexa’s amazing tongue doing wonders to it. Clarke lifts her chest, a hand coming to grip Lexa’s hair, wanting to feel more of her. Lexa bites it, Clarke instinctively gasping, before she’s sucking again.

Clarke is burning, enjoying every lap of Lexa’s tongue over her chest, but she’s starting to get desperate. Lexa needs to give her what she wants.

“Lex,” Clarke begs, that one word conveying everything she wants without the need to add anything else. Lexa lets go of her nipple with a loud  _ pop _ , her eyes searching Clarke’s face to confirm what she already knows.

She sits up again, not before sliding her left hand up Clarke’s stomach until she’s cupping a full breast, squeezing it. The motion surprises Clarke and she groans, involuntarily lifting her hips. She can’t take it anymore.

“Please, Lexa, just– fuck me,” she begs, grateful when that spurs Lexa into action. She grabs Clarke’s pants, sliding both them and her underwear down in one swift motion. She throws both of them on the floor before coming to lie down on the little space that’s left on the couch beside Clarke.

Lying half on her side and half on top of Clarke, Lexa slowly slides her right hand down Clarke’s body. Painfully slow. Clarke is about to tell her to move faster, but before she can protest Lexa is already sliding slender fingers past soft curls. Clarke spreads her legs in anticipation.

Nothing could ever prepare her for the way her body feels like it’s on fire as soon as Lexa’s fingers slide further down, barely brushing her clit before finding her opening. A tentative fingertip awaits as Lexa husks, “What do you want?” and the answer is simple.

“You,” Clarke says, bringing the hand that’s behind Lexa back up until it can grip the back of Lexa’s neck. “All of you, in me,” she whispers against Lexa’s lips before finally pressing her lips against the other woman’s.

It muffles the sound that escapes her throat when Lexa slides one, then two, and then three fingers inside of her. She’s filled with Lexa and Clarke can’t believe how amazing it feels.

Lexa pumps her arm, her fingers going in and out of her with the same rhythm as the tongue in her mouth, Clarke’s hips moving up to meet each thrust. She would be panting Lexa’s name if it weren’t for the mouth expertly moving against hers, and so instead she lets go of Lexa’s hair, moving her hand down until she can slide it under Lexa’s shirt, her short nails digging into Lexa’s back.

Changing the way she’s fucking Clarke, Lexa leaves her hand inside her, long fingers beginning to move in circles, reaching places Clarke had never thought possible. She can feel her center tighten just as Lexa moves her mouth away toward her neck instead, where she trails kisses, sucks, licks.

“Fuck,” Clarke lets out now that her mouth’s free. “Fuck, Lexa, yes,” she pants every time Lexa’s expert fingers touch her very core. “Right there,” she says, over and over again. She closes her eyes, throwing her head back, exposing more of her neck.

Lexa’s thumb moves, finding Clarke’s clit and her eyes shoot open at the sensation, both in and out of her. It feels good, so fucking good and she lets Lexa know with each brush, each push.

It only takes another minute of Lexa’s steady movement for Clarke to feel every muscle in her body tightening. Her legs tense, her breathing hitches, her eyes closing once again, all of her blood focused between her legs until Lexa’s well timed stroke leads her to find the release she’s been desperately needing.

She comes, hard and long, her body shaking, her throat hurting as she screams Lexa’s name into the space surrounding them. Her heart beating hard and fast against her chest, it takes her a few minutes before she can recover. Lexa is still inside her, her muscles tightening around her fingers.

“Jesus, Clarke,” Lexa mumbles into her neck, placing soft kisses against sensitive skin.

Clarke spreads her legs, ready to let Lexa pull out, but her muscles betray her, tightening around Lexa’s fingers when she begins to pull them out and fuck, she needs to come again. Her left hand shoots down, holding Lexa’s in place.

Lifting her head up, Lexa looks at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Again,” Clarke commands and Lexa’s eyes darken at her words. She doesn’t need to be told twice, her hand moving back in, returning to her initial movement, thrusting in and out of Clarke. Clarke begs for more, faster, harder, and it doesn’t take long for her to come again, another scream escaping her lips as she shakes against Lexa’s hand, her legs closing and tightening around it.

Once she’s come down from her high she dares to open her eyes only to find Lexa looking at her, smirk firmly in place. “Shut up,” Clarke says, covering her eyes with her arm.

Lexa places a soft kiss on her cheek, removing her hand slowly. This time Clarke lets her, her muscles relaxing completely. She sighs, content.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Clarke protests, feeling fabric against her skin, wishing she could just feel Lexa pressed up against her instead. She likes the way Lexa’s leg feels wrapped around her, but she wants more. All of her.

Lexa chuckles, slowly pushing herself off the couch to stand. “Then do something about it,” she says, looking over her shoulder as she heads into Clarke’s bedroom.

Clarke doesn’t need to be asked twice.

::::

“So, what does this mean?” Clarke asks, her eyes closing as she settles further into her mattress, Lexa lying next to her, both of them on their backs. Her heart is still beating wildly in her chest, but for completely different reasons than the past few days.

She’s grateful for the change.

“It means I want you to be my girlfriend, Clarke,” Lexa says. Clarke feels the mattress dip next to her as Lexa turns on her side, wrapping her left leg and arm around her. She nuzzles her nose against Clarke’s neck and the words fill Clarke’s stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah?” Clarke asks, turning her head to look at Lexa. She’s peering at her from behind hooded eyes and Clarke leans in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

“More than anything in this world,” Lexa says, her eyes closing.

“Okay,” Clarke agrees with a smile. She adjusts so she can turn onto her side too, facing Lexa. She brings her lips to kiss the tip of her nose. “I would be okay with that,” she says.

::::

“Hey, Lexa,” Clarke says later that day. It’s still Sunday, but suddenly this Sunday doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Clarke thinks it has something to do with the woman sitting across from her.

They are by the kitchen island, to each side of one of the corners, sharing a quick meal Clarke had whipped up for the two of them so they could recover some energy. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s still food.

“Yes, Clarke?” Lexa asks, looking at her. Clarke has had months to get used to the way her stomach flip-flops whenever Lexa says her name, so it surprises her when this time the feeling has increased ten-fold.

It’s like her name on Lexa’s lips, the hard  _ k _ sound at the end of it, combined with the way Lexa’s looking at her with so much affection, lips still swollen from all the kisses they shared, her hair disheveled and one of Clarke’s old t-shirts the only thing covering her body makes her brain short-circuit.

She decides right there and then to commit that image to memory, filing it away with the other moments shared with Lexa she has tucked away in her mind.

Scrambling to go back to what she wanted to say, Clarke searches her brain for the answer until she remembers. She hesitates for a second, wondering if she should just keep her mouth shut and live blissfully in this moment instead of bringing up the topic of conversation she’s been thinking about for the past few minutes.

She doesn’t want to put a damper on the evening, but there are pieces to a puzzle she’s still unsure of and she’s desperate to know how they all fit together. So against her better judgement, she presses through any doubts and speaks up anyway.

“What happened with Costia?” Clarke finally asks, flinching as she says the name, even though she knew that’s exactly what she was going to say.

Fork midair, Lexa pauses. She blinks once, twice, as if surprised by the topic being brought up. Clarke wonders if the air feels heavier now for Lexa, too.

“Absolutely nothing,” Lexa says, putting the fork down, food forgotten for the time being.

“You guys kissed,” Clarke says, unconsciously pushing her plate away, food no longer looking that appetizing.

Lexa dips her head. “Aside from that,” she says. Clarke wants to look away, she senses Lexa would like to as well, but they both sit there, unwavering. Clarke is grateful for it, finding some solace in the honesty she can see shining through Lexa’s eyes.

“And you took her to my favorite restaurant,” Clarke softly adds after a pause, suddenly very fascinated by the granite that adorns her countertop, unable to look at Lexa anymore. She feels childish, wonders if her hurt is justified –no one has a claim to a particular place after all– but the truth is it still stings and she needs Lexa to know that.

“I know,” Lexa says. Clarke can see out of the corner of her eyes that she’s playing with her hands. She’s embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she says next, stopping the motion to reach over, taking Clarke’s right hand into hers. “That was really stupid of me. I don’t know why I thought–”

Her words die off then and Clarke looks up, searching her face for the answer that’s still hanging between them: Why?

It takes a couple more seconds before Lexa speaks again, not without taking a deep breath. Clarke squeezes her hand, letting her know it’s okay. She can be honest.

“I think I was chasing a feeling,” Lexa says. She looks down at their joined hands, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips and she begins to softly run her thumb over Clarke’s skin. It sends tingles down Clarke’s spine. “Did you know,” Lexa says, her eyes back to connect with Clarke’s, but the touch on her hand never stopping. She pauses, rephrases, “The first time you took me there, I wanted nothing more than for it to be a date,” Lexa confesses, and Clarke can’t help the way her eyes widen.

“You did?” Clarke asks, surprised. She never thought for a second that Lexa has felt the same way about her for just as long.

Lexa nods in response. “I still remember the way I felt being there with you. The way my stomach would tighten every time you looked at me, the urge to lean in and kiss you. How badly I wanted to take your hand in mine,” her eyes drop to their hands once more, this time the smile completely overtaking her face, lighting up all her features.

“When Costia asked to meet…” she swallows, looks up at Clarke once again, her eyes full of regret. “I don’t know, I thought maybe if I went there with her I could replace those memories with new ones, find that same feeling again. I wanted to think maybe everything that I felt was because of the restaurant, the ambiance, anything but you specifically because knowing you didn’t feel the same hurt too much.”

Blinking, Clarke tries to understand how neither one of them realized what was going on through the other’s mind. Wonders why she couldn’t have just leaned in and kissed Lexa like she wanted to.

“I wanted it to be a date too, you know?” Clarke lets Lexa know. She moves her hand away from Lexa’s, placing it on the other woman’s thigh instead and Clarke has to stop herself from inching her touch further up. When she meets Lexa’s gaze she sees surprise there, too.

“You did?”

“So badly,” Clarke groans, looking at the ceiling, frustrated at all the time they’ve wasted. She returns her eyes to look at Lexa. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lexa shrugs. “Why didn’t you?” she counters and Clarke smiles. Touché.

“Did it work?” Clarke asks her, seeking the last answer she’s dying to know. At Lexa’s furrowed brows, she explains. “Did going there with her,” she says, hoping it’s implied so she doesn’t have to speak her name again, “bring back that feeling?”

She’s curious. Still trying to understand how Lexa went from going on a date with Costia to kissing her to sitting half-naked in her apartment. The thought makes her cheeks redden, suddenly the hand that’s touching Lexa’s bare thigh burning. But she leaves it there, almost as an anchor, bracing herself for Lexa’s answer.

It catches her by surprise when Lexa lets out an airy laugh. She shakes her head, smiling brightly. “Not even close,” she says and Clarke soars. “I knew things weren’t going to work out. I met her there as a last ditch attempt, but Clarke,” she shakes her head again, waves of hair moving left and right as she does. Clarke loves her hair like this. “I was already so far gone,” she admits and she looks so shy, Clarke can’t help but to lean forward, bringing Lexa closer until their lips touch.

She means for it to be a short kiss, but as soon as she feels Lexa’s soft hum Clarke gets lost and she stands up, moving to stand between Lexa’s legs. Lexa’s arms wrap around her almost immediately, pulling her closer.

She has to force herself to stop before they get carried away again. Not that there would be anything wrong with that, but there’s one more thing she needs to say. So she pulls away, laughing at Lexa’s protest.

“You owe me a new favorite restaurant,” Clarke says, pressing her forehead against Lexa’s, whose smile could light up her whole entire apartment.

“Fair enough,” Lexa responds, pulling back to place a kiss on the tip of Clarke’s nose. Her hands move to Clarke’s hips, grip still tight. “How about I take you out on a date to a new place until we find it?”

Clarke smiles at the thought. She can give away her favorite restaurant if it means going on a quest to find a new one with Lexa by her side.

A thought crosses her mind and she laughs, leaning back slightly to get a better look at Lexa’s face. “You’re going about this all wrong, you know?” she asks. Lexa tilts her head, a questioning look on her face.

God dammit she’s adorable.

“First,” Clarke says, putting her left pointer up and tapping it with her right, “you fuck me,” Clarke enjoys the way Lexa’s whole entire face, ears included, redden at the word. “Then you ask me to be your girlfriend,” she says, glint in her eyes, loving the way Lexa smiles at her when she realizes where Clarke is going with this. “And  _ then _ you ask me out on a date? Pretty sure you got the order mixed up,” she says with a chuckle.

“Huh,” Lexa says. “I guess you’re right. Should I,” she pauses, grinning at Clarke, and she knows Lexa’s going to try and be funny next. “Should I take it back, then? No longer girlfriends? And sex is off the table?”

Clarke immediately shakes her head, smacking Lexa’s arm for even suggesting such a thing. The laugh that filters through her ears makes Clarke’s chest expand and she wonders how she ever thought she could live without this. Without  _ her _ .

“Don’t you dare,” Clarke threatens. “We’ve already wasted enough time, let’s not waste any more,” she says, reaching a hand to push a strand of hair behind Lexa’s ear, smiling at the way Lexa’s eyes flutter. “Deal?”

Lexa tugs her close until she can kiss her lips. “Deal,” she murmurs against them. Lexa’s fingertips delicately run up under Clarke’s shirt and Clarke feels hungry again, but not for food anymore.

And for the first time since that afternoon at the restaurant a few days ago, Clarke finally feels like she can breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry if I delved into E rating territory? I don't know where the line is drawn, oops.
> 
> I hope everyone has a Happy New Year and that 2020 is way better than whatever this 2019 shithole has been lol
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me in the comments :) Or be nice, I would enjoy that too.


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